Is in my brain. Driving me nuts. I’m so confused by everything. Feel lost. Like all I do is futile.

Sometimes I wonder if everyone else is playing a game I don’t know how to play? Aren’t words meant to mean something or is it just me who believes that they always do? Am I wrong for believing it or am I missing some piece of the puzzle? How will I know?

Yes, I have trouble to identify a joke sometimes, and take it seriously when it’s not intended to be. I don’t always detect irony or sarcasm even if it doesn’t happen a lot that I misunderstand. So, I believe that words spoken (or written) to me are honest and true and should be taken seriously. Maybe that is where I fail?

I’m also easily confused if the meaning of what is said to me is not clear and to the point. So often do I find it impossible to figure out a vague message that it melts my brain to even try. If I can, I ask for clarification.

Some say actions speak louder than words and I find that to hold some truth. At least when the words and actions no longer match up.

Like when you say someone or something is very important to you and then you hardly make any time for them in your life. Of course there can be times when its impossible to find the time but not all the time. Not if they really do matter.

Or when you send messages but almost never have a reply of any kind. Then you can’t help but wonder why and also start to doubt if it means anything to the other person that you try to communicate with them. At least if there is no reasonable explanation given.

I often think I ought to ask why when that happens, but I rarely do. Somehow I think that if it really mattered the other person would reply at some point. That’s why I think asking why they don’t will probably not change anything. Except perhaps give me a reason why not.

The feeling that you might be starting to matter less to someone is hard to deal with though. Especially when it happens without any real reason. At least no reason I can think of.

Sure, I’m not perfect myself. Far from it. I make lots of mistakes and misunderstand things. All I can do is to try to learn to communicate better.

Yesterday I woke up early from a text message informing me that the trial work I had looked so much forward to start would not happen at all.

This news broke me down. I wanted to hide in my bed, not see a single soul again. But what I really wanted was for someone to comfort me and tell me everything will be ok.

After a few hours I got myself out bed, dressed and vented a bit on Twitter before heading out for a walk before it got dark outside.

The daylight, fresh air and exercise helped a little but I was still feeling like an eternal loser. Wondering why nothing ever seems to go my way.

When I got back home I had some food and then I went on Twitter again for a while. However I felt so unhappy I soon went back to bed to try to sleep away my sadness.

It didn’t work very well. Instead I decided to go online and see a friend and that worked. After a short time talking and laughing I started feeling much better about myself and forgot about the bad news.

After all, life goes on, and all I can do is keep moving until the end.

Like this:

I had no idea it would be so hard to adjust to life after my parents passed.

When my father passed away , after a long battle with cancer, I was devastated for years. I was sure nothing would be as painful as that experience.

Little did I know.

Twenty years later, and two years ago, my mother passed away after suffering a massive stroke. This blow didn’t feel as bad at first but now I find it gets worse by the month.

As it dawns on me I’m now alone. To live the rest of my days without anyone to ask for advice, help, support, comfort or whatever. No one to turn to. Wake up and go about my days alone. Come home to a silent apartment. Cook my meals and eat alone.

Significant other, you might ask? None. Never had one and not likely to ever find one as it seems to be the hardest thing to do for me. Connecting with other people is the most difficult thing I know. Partly due to the autism spectrum disorder I have but didn’t know for sure until last year, and partly due to not having a clue to how. Not for lack of trying various ways over the years.

Same to be said about friends. As a kid and up through my teens I had only a few friends and none was really close. As an adult I’ve had one real friend outside of family and relatives. But that friendship didn’t last.

However, while it lasted it was a great feeling to have someone to share live with – the highs AND the lows. Burdens became less heavy to carry and the joys felt greater when shared with her. Of course it worked both ways, I was as much her support as she was mine. I learned a lot about life and human interaction and also grew as a person during those years. I even learned to have arguments and how to make up afterwards. My confidence also developed and I started to feel more secure in my daily interactions with other people.

When it all ended, or rather slowly faded away, I was very sad. For several reasons. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to find a new friend to be that close to and I knew I would find it hard to be alone again. Desperate search for a new friend ended in some sad disappointments and other failures. A limited success was good for a year or two until I realized some facts that did change my attitude to it all. Since then I’ve been afraid to get my hopes up and not looked around for friends at all. Until very recently.

During the last years of my mother’s life, my life was filled with problems I had created for myself and one I was only partly responsible for. There were a lot of arguments and hard feelings at times but still also the comfort of having someone to talk to and share things with. Although not all things. To do that I would have needed a friend and/or significant other.

Still those years were better because we could help each other and keep each other company at times even if most of the time was spent at separate ends of the house.

The topic is life after the parents passing though. And as I have already stated, it’s not getting better. At least not for me. I’m only just now learning to live all alone and I don’t like it much. I don’t mind about doing chores and such, it’s the being all alone thing I don’t find myself at ease with. To have time but no one to share it with. To have joys and troubles and no one around. Well, I do have someone I talk to but I’m probably not patient enough about it and I feel I have lost a lot of my confidence and have to learn to build all of that up again. It takes time and I feel like my time is running away from me.

Go out! Yes, yes, I know but there aren’t many places where people gather I feel like being at. Due to my disorder I feel uncomfortable in large crowds and I tire very fast trying to cope with all the impressions coming at me as sights, sounds and smells.

Is it hopeless? No, I don’t think so. Must try to learn how to cope with life alone.

Like this:

How often do I not wish time could be frozen at a moment when everything feels right, and couldn’t get any better. I have wished just that a lot through the last few months.

But then I think about it and wonder how I can be sure that this moment really is the best there will ever be? Perhaps the next moment could have been better, but if time is eternally frozen I will never know.

So, as much I don’t want to admit it, it’s probably better to let time go on, because it will pass no matter what.

People and things will change with the passing time.

The great happy moments will also pass but if they did last forever how would I know they really are the great happy moments. Can a moment still be a moment if it never ends?

Where I’m going with this? Just this – all good things gotta come to an end

Like this:

Once upon a time in a world known as Plate, there lived a young meatball named Sven. He was the only son of two proud parents – Inga and Ingmar. They all lived together with the other meatballs in a quiet corner of Plate not far from the Gravy river and under the shadow of the magnificent Mount Mash. Further away than any living meatball had travelled was the legendary and mysterious Lingonberry sauce lava field. According to the legend any meatball who dared to enter the lava field would disappear forever and never be heard from again.

Sven was an adventurous young meatball, which caused his parents to worry.

“Why can’t you be more like the other little meatballs that stay in this corner to play?”, his mother Inga often asked.

But Sven, being the adventurous one, replied: “No, I enjoy it more when I can roll around and explore all of Plate, not just our crowded little corner.”

To which his father, Ingmar, would say: “Now, Sven, staying in our densely populated corner of Plate will save you a lot of anxiety and keep you well out of danger, so that you may enjoy a long, safe and secure life.”

“Yes”, said Inga, “Sven, you better listen to your father. If you roll too far away from our corner on your own, you risk to be impaled by the big shiny Fork or cut in two by the mighty Knife coming out of the sky without warning. Then swept away into the gaping black hole of the Giant and be lost forever. You’ll be a lot more safe here among all the other meatballs.”

Sven, even though fond of his parents as he was, never did like to listen much to what they had to say. He was sure there was big adventure to be had beyond the brown Gravy river on the other side of the imposing Mount Mash with its pale yellowish hillsides just waiting for a young meatball to roll up on.

So, one fine day, Sven decided it was time to embark on the big adventure. As quietly as he could, to not be seen leaving, he rolled away from the crowd of meatballs into the great wide open of the empty white plains of Plate, setting his course on Mount Mash.

Like this:

Posts navigation

Archive

Archive

MoonieZ

Welcome ! I'm the author of this blog. I write about my daily life, my interests and the world around me. Sometimes I also have a little fun with words. Just so everyone knows that not every word posted here is true.